Harry Morton watched Lindsay Morgan Lohan slide out of bed. It was late morning, almost noon, and Lindsay and Harry had been out most of the night dancing and drinking and popping a few pills that kept everything going. Lindsay did not make eye contact with Harry as she stood and put on her white panties and then her white bra. Her hair was jet black , the newest incarnation of Lindsay's public persona. Harry was essentially a nobody and he could not believe he was now the boyfriend of Lindsay Lohan. All Harry ever did was have a father who happened to own the Hard Rock Café. Big fucking deal, Harry told himself, though he did not reveal these insecurities to anyone.
But here he was lying in the bed where he had made love to Lindsay Morgan Lohan, what, three times last night, the last time when Lindsay was in a near sleep state.
"I would like to see you shave it off. All off," said Harry.
"What?" said Lindsay without looking up, struggling to get her blue jeans on.
"I would like for you to shave your crotch hair all off," said Harry. There, he said it. He was being bold and taking a risk. But he found that the more he got women to do outlandish things to please him, the more compliant they became over time. He asked a girl once to shave her crotch, but her response was "fuck you." Harry could not believe it. She was more of a nobody than he was. But now he felt like Lindsay had an investment. A time investment. A bed investment. A media investment. Harry thought he could ask. Plus he was pissed that Lindsay told the media that she was only dating Harry because Johnny Depp and Ashton Kutchner were taken. That wasn’t nice. It was time to take action.
"Could you like say that again. I am not sure I heard you," said Lindsay.
"I would like you to shave your crotch," said Harry.
Lindsay zipped up the zipper of her blue jean, but the very top remained unbuttoned. She was standing there with messy black hair, a white bra, barefoot in blue jeans. Lindsay made her first eye contact with Harry, who was covered by white sheets and had his back up somewhat on the headboard.
"My crotch?" asked Lindsay.
"Yeah," said Harry.
Lindsay Lohan's disheveled black hair covered much of her face. She pushed the copious black hair back to get a better look at Harry Morton lying on the bed.
"Why do you want me to shave my crotch hair?" asked Lindsay.
So here was the big moment. Should he tell Lindsay that he has this very little fetish of wanting to see a clean crotch, that somehow the hair makes the whole thing dirty for Harry. Would Lindsay buy that? In point of fact, though it made oral sex more interesting, it was not a big deal for Harry Morton one way or another. His real reason was control. Get control, keep control. And this was a hard woman to control. Of course he could not tell her that. Unless of course she thought it so absurd Lindsay would merely laugh it off.
"Well, Lindsay, you are so beautiful, and though all of you is luscious, I thought that shaving your crotch hair might permit your perfect femininity and sweet aromas to shine through in a way that may enhance our sexual experimentation," said Harry.
That sounded good. Harry always amazed himself at how poetically articulate he could be on the fly. Just make it up on the spot. The women loved it. Harry oozed charm, and felt like he could turn it on at anytime, day or night, sober or drunk.
"Are you like some sick fucko. Shave my crotch hair so my sweet aromas come through? Where'd you come up with that Hallmark bullshit?" said Lindsay Lohan without a hint of a smile.
Whoops. OK. That didn't work. But Lindsay sometimes did this. Get tough, then go soft. She was playing tough, or she was not feeling well because of the long night of drinking. Lindsay gets impatient in the morning, hungering to recover a feeling of health and fitness, a feeling that over time becomes false. As every alcoholic knows, the mornings are the worst, but it gets better throughout the day. Nondrinkers never know how the day will go. But alcoholics always knew things got better. A benefit of heavy evening drinking. Harry knew how it was. He was not feeling his best either.
"Hey, Lindsay, I am serious. You have such fair skin, its almost pink and freckled. There is something absolutely angel-like about it. I just wanted to explore everything about you. I am sorry if I spoke thoughts I should have kept to myself," said Harry.
"What am I doing today?" asked Lindsay. "Oh, yeah. I got to go to the lawyers. Sign papers or something. I got to get dressed," said Lindsay.
"OK. Sounds good. Later than. Dinner or something?" asked Harry.
"Yeah. And I'll shave my crotch hair. Sounds like a plan, as long as it grows back," said Lindsay as she walked into the bathroom and shut the door.
Knew it. She folded. Harry had Lindsay in the palm of his hand. Lindsay Lohan plays tough. But she's an actor. She plays tough, soft, weepy, steely. She can do it all. All for Harry.